Adversary
by Carlanime
Summary: The first episode for an imaginary season three six chapters. JoanRyan. As Helen struggles with questions about why evil exists, Joan begins to understand that she has the ability to shape her interactions with Ryan. NOW FINISHED.
1. chapter 1

"I have a question for you," Helen said as they chose a table near the window of the coffee shop.

Lilly winced slightly as she sipped her coffee. "Is this about charism again?" she asked warily. "Because I'm not sure how much more I can tell you. Having, you know, never gotten to experience it," she added bitterly.

"Oh, no," Helen assured her.

Lilly waited.

"It's about the nature of evil," Helen continued.

Lilly raised one eyebrow. "Oh, good," she said wryly. "An easy one."

Joan and Luke were sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by books. "I am so not getting this!" Joan said.

Luke looked exasperated. "What's not to get?" he asked. "What are you missing?"

"Crucial brain cells?" Joan snapped.

Luke sighed. "No, seriously," he said, "I can only help you if I know exactly what it is that you don't understand. Where does it get confusing?"

"At the very beginning," Joan told him, her shoulders slumping. 'It wasn't fair," she thought to herself. 'If I have to single-handedly fight the devil, I should at least get some sort of exemption from exams.'

He took a slow, patient breath. "Okay. Well, in setting up any equation we begin by defining our terms."

"Which means?" Joan prompted.

"It means you decide what each variable represents," he said. "For example, we can define x as any number—let's say five—"

"Okay, wait. _Why_ do we have to do that?" Joan interrupted.

"Because if you don't define a variable, it's just a meaningless symbol," Luke explained. "You have to decide what you want it to mean."

"But what if I define it as something else?" Joan said. "Can I do that?"

"Yes!" said Luke enthusiastically. "When you're setting up your equation, you can define your terms however you want. But remember: if you change your variables, you change the problem."

Joan looked thoughtful. "So then…I'd get a different answer?" she asked.

"Exactly," said Luke.

Helen picked up her coffee cup and stared at the surface of the liquid, her social smile slipping away to reveal some of the anxiety she felt. "It's just, with everything that's happened lately—the vandalism—I can't help but wonder _why_," she said. "I mean, why does God let that happen? Why doesn't he just destroy the evil?"

Lilly blinked. "You want God to vaporize the vandals?" she asked cautiously.

Helen shrugged. "Yeah. Maybe." Then she relented. "Well, no, not really. I just want you to give me one really good reason why I _shouldn't_ want that."

Lilly looked thoughtful. "Well," she said eventually, "Origen said that eventually everyone, even the devil, would have to be reconciled to God. So maybe destroying people who do evil is wrong because it's too easy? Maybe we're not supposed to give up on them."

Helen considered this. "That's a good answer," she said, sounding slightly surprised. "Hey, how come I've never heard of Origen?"

"Probably because of the part where a lot of his work was dismissed as heresy," Lilly said, and Helen sighed deeply.

Climbing into bed, Joan replayed her last conversation with Ryan for the millionth time. "A worthy opponent," she muttered out loud. "An enemy." She tried to ignore the way her stomach clenched with anxiety at the thought of doing battle with someone who had so many advantages, so much influence. 'Why me?' she wondered yet again. 'How could God possibly think I'm a match for Ryan?'

Then suddenly it hit her, and she sat up in bed and turned on the light. "Wait a minute," she said to the empty room. "Why am I letting _him_ define the terms?"


	2. chapter 2

Pairing: none for part one (eventual Joan/Ryan)

Warning: Nothing explicit is happening (at least not yet) in this fanfic.

Spoilers: Possible spoilers for season two of JoA.

Disclaimer: Neither the characters nor setting belong to me, and no money is being made from this fanfic.

Cute Guy God walked up behind Joan as she stood in line in the cafeteria, trying to locate her already-seated friends. "Have something healthy, Joan," he said casually, adding an apple to her tray.

Joan rolled her eyes. "What, have you been talking to my mother or something?"

Cute Guy God smiled without answering.

Joan lowered her voice. "I need to talk to you. I think I have an idea about how to approach the whole—" she waved one hand, the tray teetering slightly in the other, "--Ryan thing."

"You'll know what to do when the time comes," Cute Guy God said calmly, but Joan failed to look reassured.

"Maybe I will if you _help_ me," she said impatiently. "You know, if you maybe talk to me ahead of time?"

"I did want to talk to you, Joan," said Cute Guy God cheerfully, "about sex."

Joan froze, looking utterly appalled, and then glanced around to make sure no one was listening to this. "Um, no, you _really_ don't have to," she said, holding up her free hand, palm out. "My mother? Had that talk with me years ago, and really," she shook her head, "I don't need to have it again. Particularly with you. No offence," she added hastily.

Cute Guy God looked unperturbed. "What do you think sex is for, Joan?" He asked.

"Will you keep your voice down?" Joan said irritably. "Um, reproduction, I guess…Isn't that what you said?"

"Did I say that?" Cute Guy God asked, looking mildly startled.

"The whole "be fruitful and multiply" thing?" Joan said. "Isn't that what you said?"

"There are lots of ways of being fruitful, Joan," Cute Guy God said. "Writers have fruitful imaginations; workers enjoy the fruits of their labours." He reached over and picked up her apple, tossing it in the air and catching it. "The fruit depends on the seeds you plant."

"So now we're talking about sex and…seeds?" Joan said, looking perplexed and slightly revolted. God waited patiently. Joan sighed, and tried to find a point. "Um, okay, seeds. So I should be planting some kind of seeds? Because I haven't had major success with the gardening thing."

Cute Guy God smiled, and gently placed the apple back on Joan's tray. "Seeds are opportunities, Joan—chances for growth. Provided, of course, they put down healthy roots."

As Cute Guy God turned and walked away Joan yelled in frustration, "Wait! What's that got to do with sex?" She laughed self-consciously as she noticed a couple of nearby students had turned to stare at her.

"Dude," said Grace from behind her, causing Joan to jump, "who the hell is that? And were you just hitting on him?"


	3. chapter 3

Joan breezed into the dining-room. "Hey, guys," she said cheerfully. "What's new?"

"I'm about to become unemployed," Kevin joked grimly. "That's new."

"What? Why?" Joan asked, coming to a standstill. "And there goes my temporary good mood," she added wryly.

"C'mon, now," Helen said, "you don't know that's true."

"Mom, the memo made it pretty clear the paper's facing layoffs," Kevin said. "I'm bottom-of-the-totem-pole guy; if they get rid of anyone, it'll be me."

"Why is the paper facing layoffs?" Joan persisted, her voice slightly shrill.

Kevin shrugged. "The new owner is making changes."

"Are you sure there's not some mistake?" Helen asked. "Sometimes when there's a change in ownership these rumours get started."

"Mom," said Kevin patiently, "there's optimism, and then there's denial. Let's not cross over, okay?"

Helen sighed, then shrugged expressively. "I know. I just can't believe Ryan Hunter would do that. He seems like such a nice man."

"You also don't get to be on his side," Kevin said firmly. "I don't care how nice he is."

"Ryan Hunter?" Joan said loudly, and both Kevin and Helen turned to stare at her. "Um, I mean, he's that school board guy, right?" she said weakly, striving for a casual tone. "The one you introduced me to at school?"

Helen nodded.

"Wow, he's a happening guy," Kevin said bitterly. "All sorts of influence."

"Did I tell you I had coffee with Lilly this morning?" Helen asked, deciding it was time to change the subject.

"Did you tell her she's dating a giant, soon-to-be-unemployed loser?" asked Kevin.

"I didn't know that then," Helen said absently, and then looked horrified. "I mean—I didn't mean that. Kevin, you're not a loser. Even if you lose your job you won't be a loser. And that might not even happen."

"Not if I can help it, it won't," Joan agreed, but under her breath.


	4. chapter 4

"Okay, you can do this," Joan muttered to herself, pacing the lobby. She found his name on the list of occupants, and rang the buzzer.

"Yes?" said the voice.

"Mr. Hunter?" said Joan, and then mentally kicked herself for sounding so uncertain. She knew it was him; she'd recognize that coolly amused voice anywhere. "This is Joan Girardi." She rolled her eyes. 'He already knows your last name,' she told herself. "I'd like to talk to you." There; at least that had come out right. There was a buzz and a click as the inner door unlocked.

"Ryan Hunter lives in the penthouse. Why am I not surprised by that?" Joan said out loud in the elevator. The elevator attendant turned and smiled at her.

"It is pretty clichéd, Joan," he agreed.

"Oh. Great," said Joan, but her voice lacked some of its usual teenage superiority. "Well, since you're here, any last minute advice?"

Elevator Attendant God looked sympathetic. "Just trust your instincts," He said. "And be..."

"Careful?" said Joan.

"Kind," He answered, smiling sadly.

"I don't think he's looking for kindness," Joan said grimly.

"Maybe not from me," agreed Elevator Attendant God, as Joan stepped out, "but then, there's a lot of debate about which things are from me."

Joan turned back to watch the elevator doors slide shut before forcing herself to lift her hand to knock at the door. It swung open before she could actually knock; Ryan Hunter stood there, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses in one hand. "Please come in," he said with exaggerated courtesy, stepping back. "I'm delighted to see you here."

Joan followed him down a hallway and sank gratefully into a black leather sofa, relieved to be sitting down before she broke something or tripped over any furniture. She glanced around the room—chrome and leather furniture, glass-topped tables, an enormous window—and then looked up at Ryan. "You're delighted to see me?" she echoed dubiously, realizing what he'd said.

"Casting doubts on my hospitality?" asked Ryan. "Tsk, tsk. No, whether you want to admit it or not, you're being here can only mean one thing," Ryan continued smoothly, setting down the wine and glasses and sitting next to her. "You've recognized the truth."

"The truth?" Joan asked.

"The truth," he said, his tone mocking, "is that I hold all the cards here, Joan, and no antiquated God can help you." He smiled humourlessly. "I'm in control here."

Joan's heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was keeping her from breathing, and her palms were sweaty. 'You can do this,' she told herself again, and slid over closer to Ryan. She leaned towards him, putting one hand on his chest for balance, and kissed him.

She felt him jump slightly, and knew she'd succeeded in startling him, but his lips parted and he kissed back. Under her hand, his heart beat faster. She let herself relax into the kiss for a moment, enjoying the taste and scent of him, marveling that this was Ryan. Here. With her. Then she pulled back, just far enough to look at him.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked softly.


	5. chapter 5

Luke and Grace stumbled to a halt outside the apartment building, slightly out of breath. Glynis and Friedman were sitting on the front steps—on the opposite sides of the front steps, as far from each other as possible—looking worried. "It's about time," said Friedman. "Joan went inside over forty minutes ago." He held up his wristwatch arm accusingly.

"You're following my sister?" Luke said in disbelief. He'd been repeating variations of that phrase ever since he'd answered his cell phone.

"Together," added Grace, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly.

Glynis raised her chin disdainfully. "It is a temporary alliance only," she informed them. "We are united only by our concern for Joan."

"Which brings us back to the main point," Friedman broke in impatiently.

"There was a main point?" Grace asked.

"I tried to catch up with Joan after school," Glynis explained, "but she took off and—" she paused, groping for words. "She was acting really oddly."

"What kind of odd?" Grace asked. "Joan odd, or just odd by normal standards?"

"Furtive," said Glynis. "She kept glancing over her shoulder, and she looked secretive."

"When does Girardi ever _not_ look secretive?" Grace muttered.

"So Glynis grabbed me and we followed her here," Friedman finished. "She went inside and hasn't come out—"

"We examined the list of tenants in the lobby, but we couldn't recognize any names," Glynis interrupted.

"I'm still not getting what part of 'Joan looked secretive' makes it a good idea to follow her," Luke said, looking skeptical.

"No, wait," Grace said thoughtfully. "She really _has_ been acting secretive lately. I mean, even by her own non-sharey standards. Maybe we should check this out."

They trooped into the lobby. "Do you know any of these people?" Glynis asked anxiously.

"Yes," said Grace and Luke simultaneously, and looked at each other.

"That's the guy who might be firing Kevin," Michael said grimly, pointing to the buzzer marked 'Hunter, Ryan.'

"Dude," said Grace in a stunned tone, "_that's the guy who rescued Adam_."

"The guy who rescued Adam is firing your brother?" asked Glynis in bewilderment.

"See?" said Friedman triumphantly. "Something weird is going on. We need to get inside somehow."

Grace gave him an impatient look, then jabbed randomly at a buzzer. "Flower delivery," she said sweetly to the woman who answered. "The sweet sound of access," she added smugly when the door clicked open. "Honestly, Friedman, don't you know how to do anything?"


	6. chapter 6

Lilly sat on the Girardis' couch, legs curled under her. Helen joined her, carrying two cups of herbal tea, saying as she sat down, "I've been thinking about what you said about Origen."

Lilly grinned. "I probably shouldn't even have brought him up," she admitted. "I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be filling your head with orthodoxy, not introducing you to interesting heresies."

Helen laughed lightly. "I'll get the orthodox stuff down perfectly, I promise," she said. "It's just that it occurred to me—it's like art, in a way." Lilly looked puzzled. "I mean, it's not enough for an artist to learn technique—to be an artist, you have to push beyond that, and create something new."

"I guess so," said Lilly, nodding.

"And there must be room for that in religion, too," Helen persisted. "There have to be people out there on the edge, questioning our understanding of God, or else how would our relationship with Him grow? Even if," she added wryly, "some of them get written off as heretics."

"Or crazies," Lilly pointed out. "Our society is very quick to question the sanity of anyone who sees God in a new way."

"That happens to artists too," Helen said, quietly.

meanwhile

"Where's my sister?" Luke demanded as soon as Ryan opened the door. Grace pushed past both of them and headed down the hall. After a moment's hesitation, Glynis followed her.

Joan, looking flushed and slightly disheveled, looked up at them in amazement from a huge leather coach. "What are you guys doing here?" she asked, bewildered.

Grace rolled her eyes. "And this is what, a logical place for you to be?" she countered. "C'mon, let's get out of here. Joan looked argumentative, but stood up and stormed out, followed by Grace and Glynis.

"I'm so sorry," she told Ryan at the door. "I had no idea my _friends_--," she scowled—"would do this."

"Of course not," he said, but his voice dripped sarcasm. Joan flinched at the anger in his eyes.

"Klepto much?" Grace asked Glynis the moment the door shut behind them. "I totally saw you steal that glass."

"What?" asked Luke, staring at them. Joan, still fuming, said nothing.

Glynis, however, looked pleased with herself. She produced the wine glass from her pocket, carefully using a Kleenex to handle it. "DNA evidence," she told them smugly. "I picked up the glass that Joan used."

"Oh, for the love of—," Joan began. "Evidence of what? Nothing criminal happened. Nothing _at all_ happened," she corrected herself hastily. Grace raised one eyebrow.

"Underage drinking," Friedman pointed out. "That's a wineglass, right? Did he give you wine?" He whistled. "That would sound verrrry suspicious to a jury."

"Very shrewd," Luke told Glynis admiringly.

"Oh, _honestly_," Joan began, exasperated, and then stopped, looking thoughtful. "Seeds of trust," she murmured.

"What?" asked Grace. She and Luke exchanged concerned looks.

"Oh, nothing," Joan said, "just—I had a conversation with someone the other day, and I think I just realized what he meant." She turned to Glynis. "I really, really appreciate what you did," she told her, "and it was smart of you to think about DNA. But it's important that I give that glass back."

"Okay," said Glynis, looking slightly confused.

Joan marched back to Ryan's door and knocked. "Here," she blurted, handing him the glass when he opened the door. "One of my friends—um—accidentally picked this up. But there's absolutely no reason for me to keep it," she added emphatically.

Ryan took the wineglass and looked at it silently for a moment, and Joan blushed, wondering exactly how much he'd guessed or overheard. Then he smiled, and for half a second it Joan was sure it was a real smile, not mocking or sarcastic or mean. "Thank you," he said.

"I'll talk to you again some time?" she pushed.

Ryan hesitated, and she saw the doubt in his eyes. "I hope so," he said finally, and closed the door.

end of "episode one"


End file.
